


Visiting Hours

by WithoutBringingMeDreams



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, spoiler spec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:38:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithoutBringingMeDreams/pseuds/WithoutBringingMeDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>short spoiler spec fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visiting Hours

The fluorescent lights cast a yellow tinge on Ian’s pale skin. Mickey stared down at the tiled floor as much as he could to avoid the sight of it. The color just made him look so… _sick_.

Fiona sniffled a few times from behind him, but Lip was stoic. The four of them walked on in near silence, step after quiet step taking them further to the end of their journey.

The intake nurse met them with a tired smile. The kind of smile that was plastered on just for show. Mickey was too damn familiar with those.

“Ian Gallagher? Right this way. Your family can accompany you for a moment, but visiting hours are over for the night. They can come back tomorrow from twelve to one.”

Ian’s chest rose and fell a little faster at her words, but other than that he showed no reaction. His eyes, still swollen from the earlier tears, remained glassy and vacant. Like he was barely even there.

Mickey swallowed hard and bit down on his tongue. Ian  _was_  there. He’d agreed to this, after all. He knew this was the best thing for him.

They were each patted down—no weapons or weapon-like things allowed in the ward. Mickey’d had a pocketknife on him, and the nurse took it to hold at the front with a disapproving huff. Then it was on through locked double doors and into another hallway of awful fluorescents, buzzing and flickering occasionally and casting eerie shadows along the bare walls.

The room they were led to was small, with a sheet divider and god-knew what kind of crazy fuck on the other side. Mickey’s stomach sank again, and he had to clench his nails to his palm to keep from grabbing Ian and running the fuck out of there. Straight back to his house, or if that wasn’t good enough, to a fucking hotel. He’d steal anything he’d have to and pay for whatever Ian needed. He’d keep Ian safe in his arms.

‘Cause he never ran from a fuckin’ fight. Why start now?

_You can’t punch these demons. That’s why._

Ian sank down on his new hospital bed and sighed heavily. “Okay.”

Okay? This was so far from okay. But it was the first word Ian had said in fucking hours and Mickey’s heart jumped with hope at the sound of it.

“Yeah, man,” he said gruffly, and faked a smile.

Fiona stepped forward and wrapped Ian in a hug. “You’re gonna beat this, you know?” She kissed his cheek. “’Cause you’re the strongest of us. I just know it.”

When her tears started soaking into Ian’s shirt, Lip gently touched her shoulder and nudged her away.

“We’ll come every day we can, man. Don’t worry. You’re our fuckin’ priority. Always wanted that, huh?” He poked Ian in the side with a grin and a half-hearted attempt at a laugh. Ian didn’t smile back, but he nodded, and Mickey had to take that as another good sign.

 _Had_  to.

Lip stepped away, and it was down to Mickey. What the fuck was he supposed to say? Not fucking goodbye, that’s for damn sure. And Mickey wasn’t sure he’d even be able to get his voice to work again at all, not with the sense of his  _betrayal_  strangling him, making each breath more hitched than the last.

But fucking Ian, he always had the upper hand. In a sudden flash, he reached up and grabbed Mickey’s shirt. “I don’t want you to wait for me.”

“What?” Mickey successfully fought his instinct to pull away, because  _fuck_ , Ian was talking and moving and looking him in the eyes and it was fucking wonderful. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t want you to wait around for me while I’m in here. You should…you should see other people.”

Mickey took a deep breath through clenched teeth, relishing the anger that washed over him. It felt so good, so familiar amidst the chaos of the past few days—tears and love and pain. But anger he knew. Anger he could handle.

“Shut the fuck up, Gallagher.”

“I’m serious, Mickey.” Ian shook him gently. “You’re free now. You’ve never had that before. And I wish I could…” He stopped and swallowed hard, his eyes watering again, like they hadn’t already released more tears than Mickey’d thought humanly possible since his depression had started.  “I wish I could be the one to enjoy that with you, but I can’t, and you should experience shit, you know? Without being afraid. You can do that now.”

Mickey spared a quick glance back at Fiona and Lip, the nosy fucks, who were still right behind him. “I thought I told you to shut up." 

“But you should—" 

He grabbed Ian’s shirt, too, so that they were both holding handfuls of each other’s clothing, and drew himself close enough to feel the heat of Ian’s breath.  “I said _, shut the fuck up_.”

Then he slammed into Ian’s mouth, because goddammit he would  _make_ him shut up, no matter what it took.

For a second Ian’s lips remained still against his, and Mickey’s heart hammered into his throat, promising the most embarrassing display of tears he’d ever experienced. But slowly, slowly, the warmth from Ian’s open mouth rushed into his, along with just the tip of Ian’s tongue.

Fuck yes. His boy was still there.

He released Ian’s shirt and snaked his arms around Ian’s slender waist, holding onto the kiss for all it was fucking worth. Which was a hell of a lot, considering it was the best sign he’d had all week that things would be all right.

Lip made a throat-clearing noise and Ian finally broke away, the edge of his mouth quirking up in the barest of grins. 

Mickey didn’t even have time to give Lip a death glare. He wasn’t gonna chance missing a second of that smile.

But another throat-clearing did catch his attention—the nurse had returned. How long had the bitch been standing there? Shit. 

“Time to go, folks.”

Mickey glanced down at his arms, still fully wrapped around Ian. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go, but eventually he felt Fiona squeeze his shoulder and he gently untangled himself, dragging his fingers along Ian’s as he went. 

“See ya later, tough guy.”

Ian smiled again. “Yeah. See ya later.”

And Mickey was finally able to walk away, because even in this state, Ian was taking care of him. He’d use that parting smile as all the strength he needed to hold it together for the drive back with Fiona and Lip. He’d use it right up until he was alone in his room, sitting in the bed he’d so recently shared with the first and only person he’d ever loved.

Then, and only then, would he allow himself to break. But only for a fucking moment—he wasn’t gonna fucking wallow in tears. Not when Ian needed him to be strong. 

Not when visiting hours were twelve to one tomorrow.


End file.
